Page 111 of All Our Nevers

“And how should I accomplish that, Owen?” I snap. “I’m focusing on my professional life crisis right now, not the personal one.”

“No, I know, but you’re right. It’s a consideration.” He falls back in his chair, hand running through his hair, eyes looking everywhere but at me. “Fuck. I mean, just come move in with me.”

“No,” I reply immediately. “Stop that. How many times do I have to tell you we’re not Sophie and Andy?”

Owen’s head is in his hands. “I really want this for you, Lia.”

“It doesn’t even matter if I move,” I explain. “If I take this job, Joséphine wants someone to act as a brand ambassador in Boston. That means going to more events around the city, plus having a real presence at the store on Newbury Street. My whereabouts would be publicly advertised all the time.”

“Then say no.”

“I would be saying no to the entire job.”

“Surely she would understand, if you expla—”

“I’m not going to tell a prospective employer that I’m too chicken shit to attend public events on her behalf because of my ex-boyfriend. Be serious.”

“It’s your safety,” Owen says. “It needs to be your top priority.”

I cross my arms stubbornly. “Actually, I get to choose what my top priority is.”

He scratches a broad, considering hand across his beard, already exhausted by this brief conversation. “Look, can we maybe put a pin in this for now? It’s your birthday week, and we’re in Paris, and I really just want you to have a great time while we’re here.”

I keep pouting with my arms crossed. My bottom lip might literally be sticking out.

He stands and moves to my side of the table, kneeling next to my chair. “Come on, gorgeous. Don’t worry about it now. The interview went well, and the future will wait. Let’s enjoy our last day here while we can.”

The words are meant to placate me, but they sting like acid.

This is supposed to be the best week of my life, and suddenly all I can think about is the spiraling reality waiting for me back home. I don’t know what to do with my job. I don’t know what to do with Connor. I don’t even know what to do with Owen anymore—this thing between us that was supposed to stay casual but suddenly feels real, heavy, moving with a will of its own. It’s not safe anymore. Not for my heart. Not for all the tender parts of myself that I’ve tucked away.

The uncertainties braid and twist together until my entire life is knotted around my middle, the weight pulling me down, down, down.

27

Lia

Our flight home is delayed by four hours. I’m exhausted and sticky and about ten degrees past hangry when Owen and I finally schlep my suitcases through the front door of my building.

“Just stay over tonight,” I tell him, roller bag wheels clapping against the front steps. “You don’t really want to drive home, do you?”

“That would be great,” he says, carrying twice as many bags as I am.

“Hang on, I just want to grab the mail.”

Archie starts baying from inside my apartment, clearly having smelled and heard us. Nolan dropped him off a few hours ago when I let him know our flight finally landed, so it’s not like he’s been alone for long, but he’s always been a needy boy.

“Just one second, little prince,” Owen says through the door. “Your mom and your best friend will be inside soon.”

“Assuming the role of best friend, already?” I ask, fiddling with the little mailbox key until it finally jams sideways and scrapes open—piece of junk. It’s a small but stark reminder of my real life as the glamour of Paris fades into the rearview. I pull out the small stack of mail, then push the mailbox door shut and relock it.

“Oh yeah, Archie told me so himself.”

“He did, did he?” I ask. “Was that the same day I woke up and found you spooning him?”

“Sometime around then, yeah.”

I unlock the door to my apartment and sure enough, a happy, flabby monster is on the other side waiting for love. Owen and I collapse onto the floor on either side of him.